


On Death; On Pain

by Celebrusc



Series: The Prince and the Rogue [11]
Category: Mighty Morphin Power Rangers, Power Rangers, Power Rangers Zeo
Genre: Gen, POV First Person, Power has a cost, dark!AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-15
Updated: 2016-04-15
Packaged: 2018-06-02 10:24:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 687
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6562639
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Celebrusc/pseuds/Celebrusc
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Katherine Hillard has been a Power Ranger for over 10 years. She can't help but look back at how she has changed, and how she has been changed.</p>
<p>Set in the Prince and the Rogue Universe, though should be readable as a stand alone.<br/>An introspective piece on the side effects of holding the Power, and a glimpse at how exactly six teenagers were quite as competent as they managed to be.</p>
            </blockquote>





	On Death; On Pain

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Power Rangers does not belong to me. I am a poor poor student making no profit from this work.  
> Prompt: One day I went from a girl that didn’t know how to kill, to one who knew how to make dying hurt.  
> Thanks as always, to my wonderful Beta.  
> A/N: see end

All I ever wanted to do was dance. The flow, the movements, each arch and bend music in their own right. A perfection I could get lost in. I loved to perform, to move others as I moved myself, but mostly I danced for me.

When Rita gave me that potion, my actions were like a dance; to please her. The skills she awoke in me, only extra ability and grace. I’d always wanted to be a cat. 

What it wasn’t: was darkness, was pain. Not the way you’re thinking. She awoke the magic in my veins, but the trick to using it I had to learn. She wasn’t the one that changed me, corrupted me. You see, one day I went from a girl that didn’t know how to kill, to one who knew how to make dying hurt. But it wasn’t Rita that did that, nor Zedd. No, that didn’t come until later. Until I was free. It took a lifetime to learn; it happened in an instant. That briefest of moments when Kimberly turned her back, and placed her Power Coin within my hand.

You see, they are not just weapons. They do not simply allow us the ability to access bows, and blasters, and armour. No. They make us into weapons. Instinctively understanding, and predicting, each other. The way they do this is simple. They do not coordinate how each of us fights; they make us fight in their place in the pattern. The Power Coins are repositories of knowledge. Every skill, every memory that the previous holders knew transferred to the new wielder. Twisting us from who we are, forcing us into a choreographed routine we have no understanding of.

It is why we can pilot giant Zords from outer space, use weapons we have never seen before. Why we understand alien tongues as though they were our own (oh if only that worked for french), and jerry rig technology from outer space. It is why can we trust each other implicitly. Why we fight seamlessly and skillfully. Why we can kill.  
  
It is much stronger when we are morphed, part of the reason we are so much more powerful then. But the influence grows in strength the more we use the Power Coins, and the longer we are connected to the Grid. Looking back, I can see why Zordon wanted to use teenagers, we were less likely to notice the change. It also explains why he wanted to rotate us after a couple of years. I’ve held the Pink Zeo crystal, and been in active service, for over ten years now; and the influences are obvious in hindsight. The differences between the Pink Power Coin, and Pink Zeo Crystal glaringly clear.

I’m more of a leader now, though still from the shadows. I stand by my Lord’s right hand and guide him. Running all the details he doesn’t have time to see. Yet I still remember to taste of blood, the curdling screams, and twisted facial expressions as beautiful as any dance. I remember how to seduce the most stubborn man, how poisoned a kiss can be.  
  
I remember how sweet a girl Kimberly was (or at least Jason, Zack, Trini, Billy, and Tommy, do. They still talk about her. I have only the tainted impression hovering over my own mind.) How she would never hurt a single creature. How she couldn’t deceive someone to save her own life.  
  
I look at her now, and would never believe it. The poisonous spider at the centre of her web, the siren call of a seductress. The Prince’s master torturer.

 

No, it was not Rita that turned me dark. That would be far too easy, too simple. It was the Power. It is always the Power.

  
Of all of us, I think the only person who intrinsically understood that was Tommy.  
Maybe because he was the only one who was dark to begin with.

I wonder what memories the Red Power Coin gave Jason, that he has managed to avoid the same fate as the rest of us.  
If, that is, he has.

**Author's Note:**

> So, its been awhile. I'm still fighting with the first 200 words of chapter 6 of tFotC (though chapter 5 is doing to rounds with my beta). A friend however recently found out about this universe and begged for all the scraps he could get. (Scrivener, after the most recent round of Camp Nano's 17,600, claims I have about 73,000 words written). Turns out, I had more legible self contained stuff than I thought. So I've thrown all of that at my Beta, and I'll be posting it in dribs and draps as it returns.  
> The next piece, A Tattered Box, will be up next week. And I'll try and keep a weekly schedule until I run out of bits and pieces. (Hopefully by then at least chapter 5 will be done, and chapter 6 with my beta).


End file.
